The Boy
by SleepyAngel
Summary: Albus has had a strange dream about this child all his life. When school starts again at Hogwarts, he knows who the child is. This is a continuation of another fanfic...read to see what one.


AN: There is this great fan fiction called "The Dream" by ??? and she left it up   
to the readers to make a story with "the dream". I did that, and I hope she likes it   
because her writing deserves respect and I can wish that this does justice to it.  
(read The Dream by ??? to better understand this)  
  
::The Boy::  
  
  
With a start, Albus woke. He rubbed his eyes, his breathing became more relieved  
as the room around him cleared. It was that same dream again. The one he always had  
around Halloween, ever since he had been old enough to remember. That poor child, the  
white hot pain, the evil curse, the death, the snakes...  
  
Albus hated snakes.  
  
Knowing that reaching for sleep was useless once the dream had started, he got  
out of bed, and started his day.  
  
~  
  
September, his favorite time of the year. All the first years would be coming, so  
scared and new to magic. And the returners, the older students who knew their way  
around and thought they were so great, so undeafeatable. Then, himself, and all the  
teachers, would be back to their true home, Hogwarts, where anything was possible.  
  
From his usual place at the High Table, Albus watched as the nervous and excited  
first years filed into the big hall, everyone cheering for the newcomers into their houses.  
He looked over the group with a small smile. There were the ones from Muggle families,  
the ones who never knew their true calling, looking ready to regurgitate their stomach's  
contents. Then, future wizards and witches who had known all their lives, who'd been  
waiting forever for this day, so sure of themselves. And then a group that seemed to know  
what was going on, but they still were frightened, knowing Hogwarts would bring out  
their true personalities eventually.  
  
The new students looked astonished as Professor Porple produced the Sorting  
Hat, the hat that placed every single student at Hogwarts. Albus smiled to himself.  
Everyone thought sorting was some sort of a test, a magic trick, they'd have to acomplish.  
No one ever thought that maybe it was just a magical item who could read your thoughts,  
and know where you truly belonged.  
  
As the first name was called, Albus looked over the students again, like every year,  
searching for a clue. He did this voluntarily; he didn't even realize he was looking for a  
reason, a witch or wizard, who would make his dream come true. His eyes wondered over  
the students, mentally checking them off a list that had been in his brain since the dream: a  
big boy, taller than any of the girls, boys, even adults, in the room, a girl whispering and  
pointing at the big boy, who was receiving a dark, reprimanding glare for the obvious  
gossip from a pretty, but surprisingly strict looking girl, a sulky boy who looked at the  
dirty hat with terrible dislike, another boy with hard eyes....  
  
Albus clutched his forehead and winced. Pain tore at his forehead as he looked up  
again, forcing himself not to look away. Something had struck him. He quickly surveyed  
the students again. A boy with flaming red hair and tattered clothes stood next to a girl  
who appeared to be asking about the lousy state of his robes, a fat boy chewed something  
in his mouth, offering a piece of whatever-it-was to another boy standing behind him, who  
sneered and pushed the hand away...  
  
The pain snapped at Albus again, worse than before. It was like a hot iron was  
steaming on his forehead, or a death pulling on his hand to lead him away, like a poisenous  
snake biting him....  
  
"What's the matter, Dumbledore?" Professor Dippet asked, leaning across the  
table. Other teachers leaned in to, noticing Albus' horrible condition.  
  
"It's nothing, just a little headache," Albus lied, not able to explain the terrible hurt  
that was biting. He shook his head and attempted to smile, hoping to give the others the  
impression that he was all right.   
  
It was exactly the pain in his dream. He didn't know what it meant, what was  
making it hurt so badly. But he know the wizard, the child in the dream, who was making  
his head hurt.   
  
Braving the agony, Albus looked up again. He didn't need to search. He saw the  
boy. He wasn't anything spectacular. His body was the right size for some one his age, a  
type of gawky, little boy body. His eyes were slanted slightly, as if he were foreign, though  
it was clear he was from England. Albus didn't know how he could tell, but he just knew  
that this boy was the type to put down others who were different, and he wouldn't be from  
China or anywhere else. Maybe it was the haughty, self-righteous expression he wore, or  
the sneer he'd given to children that looked poor, or Muggle-born, but Albus could tell  
this boy was different. Unforgiving of others' differences that couldn't be helped.  
The boy seemed to feel Albus' eyes. He looked up, causing the headache to rage in  
his head again. A small smile lit the boy's mouth, like he was satisfied, and he looked again  
to the front, to the Sorting.   
  
The Sorting was coming to the end. They were starting the R's when Albus heard  
the name of the one he'd been looking for.  
  
"Riddle, Tom!" called Porple, reading off a scroll with all the first years names.  
Tom sauntered to the front of the air of some one who cared nothing for others, like he  
was the most important one in the room, in England, in the world. As he slipped the hat  
onto his head, Albus waited nervously. He didn't want this Tom to be in any of the houses,  
in any of Hogwarts at all. There was something that just screamed distrust to Albus. He'd  
felt it ever since the boy had stared directly into his eyes, like he was pulling Albus in, and  
he'd resisted, causing the ache surge through him.  
  
"SLYTHERIN!" the Sorting Hat yelled, deciding the house of this boy. Tom  
whipped the hat off, looking proud of the hat's choice. Albus looked over at the  
Slytherins, a nasty looking bunch of bullies and power hungry wizards and witches. They  
all cheered as Tom joined their table, the din so much louder for him, as if the Slytherins  
sensed that he was a leader, a boy who could take power and could be horrible. Tom  
soaked in the praise, looking like he was mentally surveying his new friends, looking who  
he could beat.  
  
Albus shuddered. This boy was the start of something evil.  



End file.
